


Impertinent

by MiniMoffat



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Blackwater, Blackwater AU, Episode: s02e09 Blackwater, F/M, Red Wedding, dubcon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-05
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2017-12-28 11:45:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/991641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiniMoffat/pseuds/MiniMoffat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa Stark and Sandor Clegane flee from the Battle on Blackwater Bay, leaving behind the world they once knew-- returning Sansa to her rightful place in Winterfell. TW: Dubcon at one point in the series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sansa

She could still see the image of green in front of them bouncing off the stone walls. The way Blackwater burned left chills running up her spine. She would be safe now, or so she told herself. Had it been someone else, she would have had her doubts, but he hadn't let her down before. While Sandor Clegane had been someone she had initially reeled away from, he had been kind to her-- kinder than anyone from King's Landing had been to her. Still, there was little comfort. She could hear Lancel Lannister’s words inside her head, telling Cersei that the battle was lost. Maybe she should have seen it coming, but she hadn’t wanted to. Despite the fact that the King was particularly cruel to her, she still wanted to consider herself safe inside the Red Keep. Out in the Kingsroad, she knew that things would be different. The men her father had told her stories about-- not the brave ones, but the ones who tried to stand up against those knights. While the stories played behind her closed eyes, she couldn't bring herself to see the same happy endings she had once dreamed of. The girl the knight was protecting wasn't some faceless woman anymore, but it was herself, and the knight in shining armor inside of her mind was losing. 

Still, Sandor Clegane had sworn to keep her safe. He had come to her room in the middle of the night, telling her that he was to leave King’s Landing. It was preposterous to her-- to leave at such a time would be treason. Her heart had been pounding inside of her head, every fiber of her being telling her different things. Joffrey would find them and kill them, her mind shouted, while her heart tugged at the memories of her mother. Her Tully blue eyes had finally found the man in front of her once more and everything began telling her to go with him-- so she did. Winterfell was her home, and with her father and sister presumably dead, why should she stay in King’s Landing? For a loveless marriage that would only lead to her cruel death? King Joffrey had had her beaten until she was nothing more than a shell of the girl she had once been. Stories had gotten her nowhere in the end, but as Sandor Clegane came closer to her, insisting on a song, she decided to make her own.She would no longer be the bird, caged inside of a world that she didn’t dare to call her own.

Her arms wrapped around the leather that adorned his stomach, doubts suddenly racing inside of her mind. It wasn’t herself she worried for, but that of the man she clung to. Joffrey would want his head, certainly. While Sandor Clegane had once been the king’s dog, running away with his bride-to-be wasn’t exactly the most _forgiving_ of actions. Still, she realized her situation wasn't the clearest, either. If she was caught, there was no way Joffrey would let her survive, and she knew her death would not be as quick as her father's had been. Sansa's stomach churned inside of her, almost able to feel the pangs of the arrows piercing her skin already. She _had_ to try, though. Sansa Stark needed her family more than she could have imagined. With freedom so close, she could almost see them in front of her already. Her head pressed against Sandor's back, wanting something to keep her stable to try to keep her stomach from rolling. It was the man’s warmth that drew her in. Although Sandor Clegane hadn’t been the kindest of men, he still held the warmth of them, and for that, she was more than grateful. It was all she wanted as the two of them rode through the secret passages that led through King’s Landing and into the woods that would hold their fate.

Sansa could feel her fears getting the better of her. How would it be out there? War had broken out and she had heard stories that it was getting increasingly more dangerous. Would Stannis' men catch them before they even got too far? No-- she had to keep her faith that this man would owe her father something. She knew that he had alerted Stannis that the throne was his-- why, she still wasn't able to figure out. Would he let Sandor go, though? Even if she insisted that he was only trying to protect her? As the two of them passed the hardly manned gates, she wrapped her arms around the other tighter. Would they be caught? It was only a matter of time, wasn't it? The highborn bit the inside of her cheek, burying her face into the dark leather as the guards decided whether they were set to go or not.

But they were off.

"We'll be safe now, Little Bird," Sandor rasped, pulling on the reins of the reluctant horse. Was he sure of that, though? He had insisted that he would keep her safe, but would he be able to keep that promise, truly? Despite the fact that he had been more honorable than his brother, it did not mean much once they were away from the watchful eyes of the king.


	2. Sandor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both Sandor and Sansa have made it safely from King's Landing.

This would get him killed, he knew that even as the world spun around him. He could see the flames still, sending shivers up his spine, feeling cold despite the layers of armor, leather, and the wine induced heat. But why had he gone for her? The Little Bird might have needed help, but she had put herself in this situation. Had she not told Cersei of her father's plans, she would be alive, safe inside the walls of Winterfell. Sansa Stark was stupid and weak and that was  _exactly_ why Sandor Clegane had needed to save her, for the flames of Blackwater weren't the only flames that were haunting him.

He could see the hearth, the soldier toy. His brother, still young but fierce nonetheless. All he had wanted was to become a knight, to help save damsels in distress and serve the realm for a greater purpose. It was the smell that haunted The Hound the most. While the pain would still come lingering from time to time, the smell of the burning, rotting flesh seemed ever present. Gregor had turned him into a monster, both children and adults reeling from him as he grew up. It was a harsh reality for him, to realize that there was no way he could be the Knight of Flowers, girls squealing to themselves as he rode by on a horse. But he didn't need that anymore. The world had turned Sandor Clegane into The Hound, and it had never bothered him.

Not until Ned Stark had his head foolishly taken off. Had Sansa been more knowledgeable, had she not been stuck in her dreams as he had once been, everyone would be alright. The younger wolf bitch would have been fine, honorable Ned Stark would be up one head. Clenching his fists tightly around the reigns, he knew he couldn't blame the teenager for all of it, though. It was her whole family, truly. Bound by honor for some reason that made his head spin more than the wine he had drank that night.

His eyes roamed the entrance of the forest, taking note of a few men who had escaped the battle, only to lose their hope and take a seat at the base of a tree, drinking away their problems. They had left their families-- their wives and their babes, and there was nothing for them anymore. Had these men decided to try to return home, they would be killed for treason, for leaving their post on the defense of King's Landing. Him and Sansa were the same, if not in a worse position. One of the men they had passed had even looked up towards them, taking note of both the burn on his face and the auburn haired girl that had clung so tightly to him. It was sickening to see his reaction-- to see the  _pity_ that was so clear on his face. Sandor Clegane knew his fate could be much worse than this man's, but he would not allow Sansa Stark to have to go through the same pain he would. Even if it meant his own death, he would keep his promise. She would see herself home in Winterfell. For a moment, he thought to kill the man. That expression left a rotten taste in his mouth and he snarled towards the man, his lip twitching in disgust. He decided against it, however. To cause so much trouble this close to King's Landing would only get them caught, and he was already dead if he decided to stay there. They would canvas the walls outside in the morning, looking for both the King's little bitch and his dog. The stragglers would only be a pleasant surprise.

The two of them rode in silence until he deemed they were a safe enough distance away from the battle. Sandor's eyes moved towards the sky, taking note of the position of the moon. It was the early hours of the morning, and while he was slightly surprised the girl had been able to stay awake, he was even more surprised that she had been able to keep quiet that long. Sansa was much like her father and her mother, inquisitive and far too honorable for her own good. The fact that she had even decided to leave with him was strange to him. He hadn't truly expected it when he had come to sit in her room.

Why  _had_ he gone to her room? Even now, he wasn't quite sure. Was it because the Stark girl had come to be able to look at him in his face? No, it was still hard for her. The only reason she could look at his disfigured face was because she was raised to be a proper lady-- to treat everyone with the same respect, even when they didn't treat her the same. In a way, he could see himself in her. Not who he was now, but who he once was. The child that used to play with little wooden toy knights and would insist upon their mother reading him stories before bed. While he had always sworn to himself that that had been another person, he could almost see his own eyes looking back at him when she looked at him.

They came to a stop just off of the Kingsroad.

"We're here," Sandor said, gritting his teeth. He could feel the reluctance in the girl as she stood up straight, her arms moving from around him. It felt cold there, now. He moved from Stranger first, his large hands moving to her waist to help her down, after. The horse snorted, shifting uncomfortably. He glanced towards the beast, knowing that it would not disobey it's master's orders. While it was a horse that hadn't been able to have been broken properly, it had suited him just fine. Tying the reigns to the branch, he placed his hand on the horse's neck, petting it's fur. Would he be able to carry the two of them safely to Winterfell?

"Thank you," The voice caught him off guard. Turning to look at the girl, he watched her eyes move instantly to the ground, her hands fiddling nervously in front of her. It would be hard for her, he knew that. Clenching his teeth, he glanced her up and down, the corner of his lip curling into a smirk.

"Not yet," He began, "But you'll be thankin' me properly," Sandor took a step towards her, watching her Tully blue eyes move up towards him, a panic residing in him that he knew far too well.


	3. Sansa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Dubcon. I wrote this specifically so you could skip over it if you weren't comfortable with that idea. I used it solely as a plot device, as you'll see it's going to be mentioned through the story to help both Sansa and Sandor in ways that may be beneficial to them in the long run of this piece. I will probably post the next chapter later tonight so those of you who do want to skip it will be able to still have an update.

Sansa took a step back, blue eyes watching the man closely. Even through her naivety, she knew what he meant. He was drunk and was acting brash. It hardly surprised her given how the two had come to leave King's Landing. She stared at the burned side of his face, and he almost seemed to reel away from her gaze for a moment. She knew why he was acting like this, why he had become so drunk and decided to flee from the place he may or may not have called home. It was his childhood-- what he had told her to scare her away during the tourney for her father. The girl stood up straight, clenching her teeth tightly. She could do this. In truth, she didn't seem to have much of a choice, but that hadn't even come into her mind.

Her hands were shaking as they pulled at the belt around her waist. This wasn't how she had expected losing her maidenhood to go. She had wanted something loving and caring. Sweet whispers in each other's ears. But Sansa made the most of it. Cersei had even told her earlier that night was that there shouldn't be love when it came to certain situations-- that what was between her legs could also be used as a weapon. Sansa pulled at the ties that held her dress closed, hands continuing to shake. For a moment, she glanced back up towards the drunk man, his gaze making her shift uncomfortably. He was just standing there, staring at her.

"Come now," Sandor barked, causing her to jump a little. The brown dress dropped around her and she bit down hard on the inside of her cheek. Sandor's hand moved to her hair, his fingers running through it slowly at first. Blue eyes focused on the leather armor, not wanting to see that drunken stare from him once more. 

His hands moved once more to her smallclothes, feeling her breasts through the thin fabric. Shivers ran up Sansa's spine and she glanced at him once more for a moment. Sandor didn't notice, he was far too engrossed in the sight of her body that it seemed he had completely forgotten the girl that was inside. Perhaps he had, even. It wouldn't have surprised her, the way the alcohol had clouded his gaze. There was nothing of the man she had known before-- just the stories that had once been told to her.

He pushed her, then. The Stark fell upon the ground, eyes widening at the sudden action. Sandor had begun undoing the armor and the girl averted her eyes, somehow still too embarrassed to see a man in such a way. It had taken some time, as he had no squire to help him, but the girl remained on the ground. She had inched away for just a moment, and while Sandor had said nothing, she decided it best to keep still. The Hound got to the ground as well once his trousers were around his ankles. This was all he seemed to want-- the idea of her body underneath his. There was no tenderness in his touch anymore. Sansa moved so her legs were bent, though her knees stayed together. Large hands moved to her knees, gripping them tightly and pulling them together. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself, though she dared not look at him. He crawled on top of her and she forced herself to look at him, despite the fear that was running through her. Sansa took note of the emptiness inside of his gaze once more, her heart leaping into her throat.

Sansa could feel tears pooling in her eyes-- not from the idea of it all, but from the pain of him beginning to push into her. Her hands clawed into the dirt underneath her, taking a few deep breaths to try to take her mind from the pain. No one had  _told_ her that it would hurt-- only that it would be her duty one day to please her husband. Some had even insisted that it felt good, though she found herself unable to believe them. Clenching her teeth tightly, the girl felt him pushing into her, only to pull out once more. Her body was becoming numb to the pain, her back relaxing onto the ground. Tully blue eyes watched one of the trees next to the two of them, tracing the patterns of the bark as he thrust in and out of her. There was no enjoyment.

It ended quickly, however. Sandor pulled out and she sat up, her body reeling from the pain. Her eyes moved to his lap, the erection still lingering there. The man was grumbling something under his breath and the girl furrowed her brows together, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around him. What had happened? As someone who had said she needed to thank him, he hadn't been able to finish. She knew that much, at least. Her and her mother had small talks about it, which she had always found incredibly uncomfortable, but the facts still lingered in the back of her mind.

Cursing under his breath, the man got up and stomped away from her, leaving the young girl to sit there alone-- the cold breeze of the night air being the only thing to hold her after that. It was just a few minutes before Sansa moved to grab the brown dress, draping it over her as a blanket. If she fell asleep, everything would be different. Curling against a tree, the girl hid inside of the thick fabric, willing tomorrow to come.


	4. Sandor

The morning had come already, and the man hadn't been able to sleep in the slightest, but not without trying. What he had done to the girl had haunted him, coming back to him when his eyes finally began to droop in the slightest. Sandor mentally scolded himself for not being able to sleep. This night may have been the only in which the two of them would have been able to sleep well enough. If the Lannisters had won, it was only around now they would have noticed him and their prized possession would have been long gone.

As he packed some things onto Stranger, he was reluctant to wake the girl. His memory of the night before was blurred, but he knew what he had done. He had pressured the Little Bird into doing something he regretted. He would not apologize, though. It was best she feared him instead of thought he was some sort of man, anyways. He was a dog. He ate, fucked, and killed when he wanted to. Still, he was supposed to keep Sansa safe. He hadn't truly thought he would need to keep her safe from himself.

If she had any sense, she would have run when he had left her. His stomach rolled at the fact that he hadn't been able to finish inside of her. Why? He had fucked plenty of women, whether he had to pay for them or it wasn't willing, he was able to finish. The fact that it was that small girl he had protected was what had sent him reeling in his drunken state. Why, though? She was just another woman, or at least she  _should_ have been. There were plenty of women that Sandor Clegane had known and had turned on them. Plenty that he had done much worse to. So why was this little Stark brat any different?

He knew why, but he wouldn't admit it to himself. Finally moving over towards the girl, he nudged her gently with his boot and watched her shift uncomfortably.

"Wake up, girl," Sandor ordered as her eyes flickered open, "Get dressed. We're leaving," It was short and to the point, and the only amount of talking he wanted at the moment. Watching her struggle to get up, out of soreness from sleeping on the ground from the first night of her life, he assumed. That or-- no. The image of her body on the ground in nothing but her smallclothes flooded to his mind once more. Clenching his teeth, he turned his back towards her, getting upon the horse as she put the brown dress back upon her body. They would need to get her new clothes if they were to make it out of the Kingsroad alive. It was too nice-- plenty of rapists would be allured towards her, knowing her to be a highborn. Other than that, there would also be the people looking for her in that same brown dress. They needed to leave.

As she moved towards the horse, Stranger moved, unwilling to have such a girl upon him.

"Stop it!" Sandor barked out, causing the horse to only want to protest more. She seemed reluctant now, but was it the horse or was it because of him? "Come Little Bird, he won't hurt you," It was only a half truth, but it was the only thing he could say to make her get on the horse aside from apologizing for his behavior the night before. But he wasn't sorry, he thought-- or perhaps he was.

The girl finally gathered up the courage to get on the horse, wrapping her arms around him once more, though not as tight as they were as they escaped through King's Landing. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he began the ride towards the North.

"Why aren't we taking the road?" Sansa asked and he could feel her eyes in the back of his head. Did she think this a trick?

"People'll be lookin' for you," He grunted out, "'N not just the Lannisters, either. Word gets out one of the Stark bitches has gotten away, anyone would want to ransom her to the King of the North," Sandor clenched his teeth once more, feeling her arms retreat from him. Did she think that he was to ransom her as well? He didn't care about that, truly. If her highborn brother wanted to throw a few dragons his way, he'd take it and leave, but he wouldn't ask for it. Sandor had  _offered_ to take her there, and while he could see it had been a mistake now that he was sober, he needed to follow through with it.

It was quiet for a few minutes, but the girl's voice hung through the air once more.

"Joffrey will kill us, won't he?" Sandor took a deep breath, trying to pay attention to the headache the wine had left him with.

"No," He paused, "Ser Ilyn will kill us, with that pretty little sword of your father's," The feeling of Sansa shifting uncomfortably behind him made his stomach turn, though he tried to think it was the lingering alcohol. Still, even he could see the images she must have been seeing. That longsword plunging into her father's neck after having been promised that the King would be merciful. Such a foolish thought. "He won't have the chance to," The man said after a few moments, "We'll get to The King of the North in time," His tone was mocking, though he could feel the girl relax ever so slightly.  _And the King of the North will have my head for what I've done to you._


	5. Sansa

She had hated this-- the soreness had gone the first day, though that had been the least of their worries. The soreness of the events that had happened were only replaced with soreness from riding the horse, as the two of them stopped only for a few hours at most. Breaks that Sandor had insisted were for sleeping, while moved out of her sight and she laid on her back, staring towards the sky to watch the moon move in the sky.

It was one of those nights in which she realized she didn't hate him for it, though a part of her wished she did. She had seen the men that had tried to grab her once before, she had seen the way they had looked at her in his eyes. He had been her protector, he had insisted that he would get her there safe. Though, she knew the stories of The Hound-- she knew that he had raped women, that he had killed them without a second thought.  _Killing is the sweetest thing there is._ Even now, she could hear his raspy voice repeating those words to her. While she had been scared, she had also come to realize that he was the only way she would make it to her brother. To hate him would be to end her own life. The bruises he had left her with would only last so long-- the memory of his touch would be replaced by the pleasantries of her mother, the soft touch of her brother's lips to her forehead, greeting her for the first time in what seemed an eternity.

Sansa couldn't remember dozing off, but once again, the feeling of his boot nudging her gently forced her eyes open. Immediately, he turned his back to her-- a habit she had noticed almost immediately. She couldn't help but wonder if he would have done the same if he had been ordered to wake her in King's Landing, though the thought was forced away as he barked at her to get up. They would take the Kingsroad today-- if they were quick enough, the Lannister's wouldn't have caught up. The rains had left the forest floor slick, forcing Stranger to attempt to toss them off multiple times over the day. She knew it was for her sake that he would take the Kingsroad. It was all for her sake.

As his hand moved to help her upon the horse, she wondered what it would have been like if she had stayed. How far would Sandor have made it on her own? Would he feel normal? Or would a different sort of guilt consume him? Guilt for leaving her behind. While even now he would bark such orders, she could hear the resentment the laced his voice-- though if it was resentment for her or for what he had done, she could not tell.

Their pace was quicker today, forcing her to hold onto him tighter than normal, afraid that she would fall off the horse. They did not stop until nightfall, though her stomach felt as if it were going to collapse in on itself and she assumed the same would be for the man in front of her. The Stark could feel the relief as he came to a stop at an inn.

"Go inside and get some food and a bed" Sandor insisted as she got off the horse, digging into a pouch and handing her a few coins. The young woman nodded, grasping the coins tightly and making her way inside quickly.

There were few people in the inn, which surprised her. The only time she had traveled was before the war had struck Westeros, leaving few travelers. Running a hand through her hair, damp from the rain that misted the outside, she was quick to find the woman who ran the inn.

"Got bread and some corn," She insisted, and while Sansa's stomach growled for the more intricate foods of the court, she nodded quickly.

"Two, please. And a bed," Her hands shook as she handed the woman the coins and she ushered her in the direction of the tables, forcing herself over despite the soreness.  _It will feel good to sleep on a bed._ She told herself,  _Even if it is only made of hay._

Sandor dropped his blade onto the table, causing the girl to jump as he threw some cloth towards her. She had only caught it after it had hit her on the face, just before it landed in her lap. Her fingers ran over the fabric, brows pulling tightly together.

"Go and get yourself changed," He insisted, though the woman was coming with their food. Her stomach growled and she gave a pleading glance towards the man, but his eyes were stern. It would be worse to fight him on it, she realized.

"May I ask where the room is?" The hostess rolled her eyes at the girl, motioning for her to follow as she gripped the fabric closer towards her. 

"So you're who he got it for, huh?" Sansa's brows knitted together once more. "Was wonderin' why he was askin' for some women's clothes. Might be a bit short," Taking a deep breath, Sansa couldn't help but smile towards the woman.

"Thank you. It's very kind of you to lend me your clothes," The woman stopped at a door, eyeing her for a moment. Sansa could feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, suddenly feeling as if this woman could see right through her. She needed to keep the formalities down to a minimum, she realized. Still, the woman smiled, tilting her head in the direction of the door.

"Come on, go and get yourself changed,"

With a smile and a nod, the auburn haired girl hurried into the room, stripping herself of her clothes as quickly as she could in order to eat sooner. As the brown dress fell to her feet, she danced around it and grabbed the wool one to replace it, throwing it on over her shoulders. It almost reminded her of the dresses she had worn in the north-- loose fitted, though clearly made for the cooler weather despite them still being only a week from Kingslanding. Her fingers ran along the dark fabric, bringing the sleeves up to her face. She could almost smell the halls of her home, could almost hear the laughter of her brothers.  _I'll be home soon,_ she thought.

Tossing her dress into the corner, she hurried back down the stairs, eyes immediately falling on the plate of food as it came into view. Though, Sansa came to an immediate halt, her stomach leaping into her throat and she found herself unable to move. Sandor wasn't alone, and suddenly terror was pulsing through her body.


	6. Sandor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Definitely gonna try to update at least weekly after this.

He had heard them as he was securing Stranger to the stables-- the hurriedness of the horses forced him to stand up straight for a moment, a wave of relief rushing over him for ushering her inside so quickly. They were Lannister men, and had they seen her with him, there was nothing that would stop them. He knew that until Sansa Stark was found, he would be the lowest priority. There was still a chance. Grabbing the few things from Stranger's packs that he would need, Sandor made his way towards the entrance of the inn, knowing full well those men would stop, though they would also take longer to secure their horses.

Making his way inside, he immediately took sight of the girl, mentally kicking himself for not going in to check to see if there had been Lannister men waiting for them. He dug a coin out of his pocket as he stepped towards the woman, causing her to reel back almost immediately.

"I need a dress," He insisted, "One that will fit that girl," The woman cowered and took a step back, though he opened his hand with the coins. She took them reluctantly, hurrying up the stairs and coming down only a moment later with a woman's dress. Sandor could almost hear Sansa's voice, insisting that he thank her, but the only noise that came from him was a low growl.

He needed to occupy her-- needed to make sure she wasn't seen. Throwing the dress at her, he instructed her to go get changed. There was no need to worry her, not yet. Sansa would figure it out soon enough. As the girl moved with the woman, who only glanced back long enough to wonder what a girl such as her was doing with a man like him, he took a bite of the bread, acting casually as he heard the door open. 

"Well, well, well. Got us a little dog here," A man commented, the other coming close behind him.

"Bugger off, will you?" Sandor immediately snapped.

"Not until we get the girl. Now, what've you done with her?" The other said, moving to sit down next to The Hound. Grabbing the other piece of bread from the plate, he tried paying the two of them as little attention as possible.

"Girl?" Sandor scoffed, finally glancing towards the one who had made the comment. He couldn't help but laugh, taking note of who had said it. Bronn sat on the other side of him, a smirk playing at his lips. "What? Now you're doin' the Lannister's dirty work?" 

"Sansa Stark pays a large price," Bronn insisted.

"And what makes you think I have her?"

"The two of you went missin', gotta say that's a bit suspicious," Sandor couldn't help but laugh.

"Think I would've taken some stupid bitch with me, do you? Would've raped her and slit her throat by now," Well, half of it proved to be true, anyways. Still, Bronn looked him up and down, brows pulling together. He glanced towards the other man who had been sent with him.

"Don't think we'll find anythin' here," He insisted, "Go get the horses ready,"

"But Ser Bron--"

"But what?" The man insisted, glaring up towards the other. Grabbing one of the small cobs of corn, he glanced back towards Bronn, trying to read the man as he watched the other scurry off.

"A knight now?"

"Really think I'm gonna just believe you haven't seen her?" Sandor said nothing, merely taking another bite of the corn. "Fair enough-- guess you don't mind if I take a look 'round the rooms," He wanted to reach out for the blade on the table, but fought the urge. There was someone waiting for him, and who knew how many more Lannisters lurked around the area. "You made the right choice," Bronn insisted, standing up from his seat on the bench. "Can't say I woulda taken her, but I'm not one to see a little girl beaten, either. Got one day-- we're meeting up with others a few miles back," Sandor only glanced up towards the other for a moment, doubt lingering in the back of his mind. "I'm takin' her if we run into you again,"

Sandor didn't say anything as Bronn moved. His stomach was turning into knots and he couldn't help but feel a small amount of regret in stopping. After a moment, he glanced back towards the stairs, taking note that the girl hadn't come down. Good-- she was smarter than she looked, perhaps. Grabbing the last of the corn, he motioned for another plate to be sent upstairs and the woman ushered a quick nod.

He didn't need to ask where the room was. Sansa had heard his steps as he walked down the hall, opening the door only a peek, even as he came closer.

"They're gone," Sandor insisted, knowing by the look on her face that she had seen them. "Food's coming up," He held up the piece of corn, forcing Sansa to open the door fully. She grabbed the cob, though her eyes didn't leave his scars. As the highborn stepped aside, he made his way in, immediately loosening at the strings that held the leather together-- though he would not take it off. He set his blade in the corner, sitting himself on the ground and closing his eyes, fully aware of the actions of the other. 

A knock on the door left her jumping slightly and he stood up, opening the door only wide enough for the plate to fit through, and slamming it shut once more. Sansa sat upon the bed of hay and he stepped closer towards her, offering her the plate. Glancing behind her, he could see images of her body inside of his mind, hand remembering the softness of her breasts. For a moment, he wanted to take her then and there once more, but as his eyes met hers once more, he took note that she had seen the same he had.

"It'll be alright, Little Bird," Sandor insisted, turning away from her as she hesitantly took a bite of her food. They could only rest for a few hours, but it would be a few hours that she would be able to feel safe if she allowed herself to. The man moved once more towards the door, turning to place his back against it. If it would allow her some comfort, it would be worth it. 

It was different when he awoke her this time. He glanced down towards her, brows pulling together as he took in how comfortable she looked. With food in her stomach and a soft bed so sleep on, she almost looked that little girl who had arrived in King's Landing with her family-- the little girl who couldn't even bring herself to look at him. Sandor reached down, shaking the girl softly until her eyes fluttered open. She stumbled slightly as she got up from the hay, running her hands through her auburn locks to get the hay from it.

"We're not stopping today," The Hound rasped, tightening the leather tunic and grabbing his blade. "Lest they'll find us," The girl only nodded, ever the dutiful songbird. He watched as she moved to grab the soiled dress, a part of him surprised that she would have thought not to leave it behind-- it would only place her in the inn with him. If they had no proof, it was possible he could fool the Lannister men.


	7. Sansa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a time skip. Really, I want to redo this whole fanfiction since I still have so many ideas for it, but we'll see.

She couldn't begin to explain how badly she ached. They had only slept in an inn that one time-- the rest had been similar to their first night. The further north they got, the more the cool air kissed her skin and brought a small sense of comfort. Her mind would flutter towards the warm walls of Winterfell and the comfort it brought when the summer snows came. While there was only frost on the grass in the mornings, the ill fitting wool dress Sandor had stolen for her still did little to keep her warm at nights.

A rough shake forced Tully blue eyes to flutter open. Her body jolted up, a hand reaching for the small blade The Hound had allowed her. She had had no use for it, but it was a small comfort with the few close calls they had gotten.

"It's alright, Little Bird," The voice rasped as her mind came back towards her. "It's just me." Sansa nodded slightly, running a hand through tangled locks. She _hated_ traveling like this. It was hard to even remember her trip down the Kingsroad to King's Landing at this point. Her finger got caught in a large knot, brows furrowing a little as she got to her feet.

"We could cut your hair. Make it a little easier on you." It was no secret that Sansa was upset with her appearance. She was used to being a lady and at first, she had been _quite_ vocal about it before Sandor shut it down with a roar. The young girl's eyes moved towards the other, teeth clenched tightly. The man let out a deep laugh, taking note of the visible disdain upon her features. Still, it wasn't a terrible idea, she knew that. Anything that would alter her appearance would make her just a tiny bit safer. However, anyone traveling with Sandor Clegane would get a critical eye, _especially_ a young woman.

"How long until we get to The Twins?" She finally asked, sticking the blade into the holster around her waist. It was where Robb was rumored to go next and when she had first heard the information when they stopped to refill their skins of wine, she could hardly contain her excitement, no matter how dangerous it was. Now, she was better at hiding it. She had to be, truly. Sansa Stark of Winterfell was slowly decaying with the autumn leaves, leaving a shell of a woman in her body.

She couldn't help but wonder if Robb would even be able to recognize her now. She was dirtied and the amount of dirt underneath her nails was something a lady would never allow. At first, she had cared about it-- a lot. Every bruise and speck of dirt made her stomach churn. This was Arya's world, not hers. She was born to have her hair brushed by handmaidens and baths on the rare occasion that she did get too much dust caking her ankles.

"We'll be there come nightfall," Sandor responded, moving to mount the unruly horse. Even after all this time, the horse still had not warmed to the young girl. Taking a deep breath, she nodded and made her way towards the horse, who as usual, tried to back away from her. With a bark, The Hound calmed the horse just enough for it to allow her to get on behind him. Her arms wrapped around his midsection, used to their daily routine by now.

Soon enough, she could see the view of the towers. This time, she could hardly contain the smile upon her lips. She was going to her brother. She could already feel her mother's warm embrace, feel her pushing the unruly hairs that could not be contained in the braids to get a closer look at her face. She wanted to believe that they would be able to recognize her at first glance, but she was certain that despite their differences, they would see a girl much more similar to her younger sister than the lady that had left Winterfell.

"Calm yourself, child," It seemed Sandor had been able to notice the way her body shifted. She glanced towards him, brows furrowing. How could she not be excited by the prospect of seeing her family? "We're not there yet."

A groan escaped Sansa's lips, head banging against the back of his leather armor. He certainly had a way of trying to destroy what little excitement she could muster on the rare occasion that it did come. She understood why, though. Things went wrong at every turn-- the two of them seemed to know that better than anyone given their histories.

"Do you think they'll recognize me?" The young woman asked after a long pause. She was certain that he could see her insecurities from a mile away. He always had been good at looking right through her-- about making her feel vulnerable in every possible way he could. Still, he didn't respond for a long while. Whether it was for her sake or not, she couldn't quite tell. 

"You still reek of some highborn," Sandor finally scoffed, "You'll have to thank the Gods if The Frey's don't find you first. Filthy rats will try and take you so they could steal the ransom." Despite his muttering, Sansa couldn't help but wonder if it was that he was worried. While she knew that he enjoyed his coin, he had always been nicer to her than any of the true knights in King's Landing. Perhaps, deep down, there was a part of him that actually cared about her wellbeing. While it was hard to see, it wasn't impossible, was it? After all, why else would he steal her from King's Landing?

"Do I? I was beginning to think I smelled similar to you," It was a vain attempt at a joke, but it was enough to make him scoff.

"Haven't had my way with you enough for that." That was enough to make the hair on the back of her neck stand up. He was saying that to shut her up, she knew that. The worst part was that it worked. Clenching her teeth, she couldn't help but think back to that night-- the way he grunted as he lay on top of her. The discomfort, both emotional and physical, that had come with such actions. Growing up, she had always been taught that laying together was for husbands and wives. Within King's Landing, she had realized that that was not always true. Lord Tyrion had always found time for whores. Even Sandor, on their trip, had found multiple whores to entertain him for a short time.

Blue eyes glanced up as they found the beginnings of the camp. Freys, Tully's, and other Stark bannermen bustled about. Sansa tried her best not to let the smile form upon her lips again, knowing that it could make all the difference for Sandor and his ransom. Still, she was almost there.

_She was almost home._


End file.
